


Mairon Wept

by Zhie



Series: Raising Cain In Valinor Once Again [6]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Master/Pet, Philosophy, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22707118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Mairon befriends Erestor, and starts to realize that decisions he made in the past may not have been the best.  There is more than the stories to this series - see https://raisingcain.weebly.com/ for more fun.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Raising Cain In Valinor Once Again [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594654
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29
Collections: 2020 My Slashy Valentine





	Mairon Wept

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RaisingCaiin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisingCaiin/gifts).



Mairon wept.

It was not the first time that day, nor the first time that week. Erestor paused and placed the bookmark carefully between the pages he had been reading. “Please take however long you need,” he said. He always said something like that. It was customary now for him to stop whenever emotion overtook Mairon. 

The damp cloth was pressed against Mairon’s face. “How much more is there?” he asked, voice muffled behind the fabric.

Erestor opened the book again and looked. “About three more paragraphs in this section, but only one more that pertains to you. The rest is about Lúthien rescuing Beren.”

Mairon sniffled and wiped his nose. “Please read the next paragraph.”

Erestor opened the book and set the bookmark aside. “‘Then Sauron yielded himself, and Lúthien took the mastery of the isle and all that was there; and Huan released him. And immediately he took the form of a vampire, great as a dark cloud across the moon, and he fled, dripping blood from his throat upon the trees, and came to Taur-nu-Fuin, and dwelt there, filling it with horror.’” 

“Dripping blood upon the trees…” Mairon looked out through the windows at the tops of the trees that could be seen. Thus far, Mairon had not been allowed outside of the confines of the house. Everyone in the House of Maedhros had their own talents, occupations, and interests. During the day, there were only a few who stayed home--Erestor was among them. He worked from home, translating books from one language to another in a freelance capacity. This meant he was able to set aside time each day to read to Mairon. Among other things, it was learned that Mairon was stripped of his ability to read and was at the mercy of the others. “Now I know why they hate me.”

“And this is the version from the book--all this says is that a werewolf devoured them one by one, including Edrahil. You commanded a werewolf to eat Edrahil, in front of Finrod.” Normally Erestor did not offer additional commentary, but thus far, no one else in the house had been involved in any of the tales Erestor read. “As it says here,” added Erestor, “you left them in a deep dark pit ‘naked and afraid’. That is a lot for someone to forgive, and not something either of them will ever forget.” Erestor flipped back to where they left off. He skimmed the page and said, “You did this to them in the place they had built. Finrod was buried at the top of the hill on his own island, but they could not bury Edrahil with him because there was nothing left to bury.”

Mairon was crying again. “I can not remember any of this. Why would I do these things?”

“That is not something I know. You could try asking them what they recall, but I think you might just get punched in the face if you get too close to them.” Erestor closed the book and set it aside. “I think that might be enough for today.”

But Mairon looked up, eyes rimmed red, and shook his head. “Please. I want to know more.”

“This is a lot already,” Erestor said gently. “As it stands, you have more questions than I can possibly answer. You might want to speak with some of the others in this house about these incidents. I was not present for the First Age; they would know more than I do to fill in the gaps.”

“I would like to know more from your book.” Mairon wiped away errant tears. “Please.”

Erestor looked at the book and then back to Mairon. “One more,” he said. “Then, I think you should take a nap.” 

“Alright,” agreed Mairon. Naps had become part of the negotiation with Erestor to obtain additional stories of his sorted past. “Thank you,” he added as Erestor retrieved the book.

  
  


Mairon was on his third handkerchief by the time Erestor was reading the words, “‘And all things waited upon the word of Ar-Pharazon; and Sauron withdrew into the inmost circle of the Temple, and men brought him victims to be burned.’” Erestor looked up. “And I think we are going to stop here for today.”

After his sobs subsided to grunts and sniffles, Mairon said, “When it says ‘victims’, do you think...do you think they were already dead? Do you think they were...do you think it was because they were corpses and they were burned on a pyre?”

“Honestly...no.” Erestor still refused to water down anything he was revealing to Mairon. “I think they brought people to you and you killed them.”

Mairon made a noise that sounded like a disgusted gasp. “Perhaps there were only a few. Mayhaps...prisoners of war. Maybe they attacked us first, and we had to retaliate.”

Erestor looked back to the book. He went again, reading silently to himself, another page, then another, all the way to the end of the chapter. “Yeeee…...no. Definitely no. You, uh...you just wanted all of the Men dead. I think I could safely say you wanted everyone dead, but having all of the Men dead would have made you very happy at that time. As it states ‘victims’ and they were unnamed and unnumbered, and it seems that it was probably ongoing--this was a lot of people.”

Head bowed, Mairon asked, “How do you think I did it?”

“Uh…” There were times Erestor wished he was better at changing the topic. This was one of those. “Well…” He flipped back to the passage and looked over the page. “When there was lightning striking the Temple, you were completely unharmed, and people there thought you were a god, so these were probably sacrifices. We know you used a pit when you trapped Finrod and his followers, so you could have had something like that and you just made a big fire in it. Then again...if that was the case, the men would not bring victims to you, they could have thrown them into the pit on their own.” Erestor looked up. “I have no idea, but I would guess whatever you did do was...well. Hmm.”

Mairon looked hopeful. “Is it not as bad as you thought?”

“Oh. No. Worse,” admitted Erestor. “I was just thinking, this says burned, not killed. They might have brought these victims to you, and you did something to burn them that did not kill them--something that would leave them to suffer.”

“No...no.” Mairon whimpered and covered his face, and tears fell anew. “Why? Why?”

With a sigh, Erestor closed the book. “Alright. You need rest. Come.” Erestor placed the book on the table and then stood so he could coax Mairon from his seat. “We can discuss more tonight or tomorrow.” 

They walked from the room Erestor and Glorfindel shared to the door which would lead to Celebrimbor and Mairon’s shared quarters, but as Erestor was about to open the door, Mairon stayed his hand. “May I sleep elsewhere? I do not think I can sleep in there without Celebrimbor.”

“Sure,” Erestor said without asking questions. “There is the guest room across the hall.”

Mairon nodded.

Erestor made sure Mairon was tucked into bed before he returned to his own room. He picked up the book and began to read from where he left off. Unlike reading to Mairon, he did not skip passages that contained information on Morgoth or Celebrimbor. Those topics would be known soon enough, possibly too soon.

Only when Erestor stretched to relieve a cramp in his leg did he notice the lack of light outside. He rubbed his eyes and placed the book back onto the shelf and then went to the door so that he could go to the guest room to check on Mairon. He knocked on the door twice before he let himself in. 

Mairon was not asleep as Erestor had expected, nor was he in bed. Instead, Mairon was seated at the desk in the room. He had several dozen sheets of paper meant for letter writing spread out over the desk top. Erestor could not tell what he was looking at, but the images on pages were drawn in black and red. Then he noticed that Mairon’s hands were stained red from the ink--until he noticed that the red was not produced by ink, but from blood that was pooled in Mairon’s hand. In Mairon’s right hand was a quill, but his left was cupped in such a way that it acted as a bowl. 

“What happened?” Erestor rushed into the room and surveyed the desk. “What is this?”

“I had dreams. I cannot tell if these were nightmares or shadows of memories. I tried to draw them with the ink I had, but I saw fire and blood, and I did not want to disturb you. I had to draw them. I had to.”

Erestor looked at the images. “You are bleeding,” he said in reply.

Mairon looked at this hand. “I cut my palm.” The blood was on his fingers and streaks ran down his arm to his elbow. There were also droplets on the floor, but they had thankfully missed the rugs, which meant Erestor stood a chance of getting Mairon cleaned up before Celebrimbor--or anyone else--returned home and came upstairs. 

“I see.” Erestor looked at the images now. “If I help you bandage your hand, will you wait until I can find some red ink for you before you draw more?”

“I think I am done for now.” Mairon looked at his hand. “I think it might have been more efficient if I had cut my wrist and let the blood run down into my hand.”

“Oh. Well. Red ink is going to be even more efficient. And less...this.” Erestor went into the washroom that adjoined this room to the one that Beleg and retrieved a cloth, which he brought back and used to wrap around Mairon’s hand to get him into the washroom without spilling blood all over the floor. The tubs in the rooms had a system of tubes and channels that allowed waste water to drain away from the house as well as pumps that allowed water to be drawn up for bathing. “Kneel here by the tub--leave the cloth there a moment,” he directed. He went back to the guest room and retrieved a pitcher. Erestor placed it beneath the spigot and moved the handle of the pump up and down until water began to trickle into the vessel. Once it was half full, he came back to the tub and removed the cloth. Some of the blood had already spilled onto the bottom of the tub, and the rest was washed away by the water, leaving the wound for Erestor to examine. “It seems it is already clotting.”

Mairon looked up. “It...feels strange.”

“Strange how?”

“Strange.” Mairon lifted his other hand and poked at the open wound, still leaking blood. “Especially when I do that. I do not like that.”

“Pain. You are feeling pain,” Erestor realized. 

“Ah...it pains?”

“Well--no. It hurts, when you feel it. It hurts.” Erestor rinsed the wound again and then bandaged it after drying the surrounding skin. 

“It hurts.” Mairon trembled a little. “They said that.”

“Who said that?” asked Erestor as he worked to wrap up Mairon’s hand.

“People I killed. People in my dreams.” Mairon closed his eyes. “It just kept getting worse. I needed it out of my head.”

Sounds could be heard in the hallway, and Erestor tried to hurry. He was able to clean up the blood, but not the extra supplies, nor was he able to get Mairon out of the room before Túrin entered the room next door and came right into the washroom. “What is all this?” questioned Túrin.

“Shhh!” Erestor gestured at Mairon. “A thing happened. He hurt himself while writing. He does not want others to know--please keep this between us.”

Túrin frowned. “Fine...I just want to take a bath.”

“Of course.” Erestor hurried to get Mairon back into the guest room. He even closed and locked the door behind them. “I have no idea what you want to tell Celebrimbor, but at a minimum, he will notice it.”

“I will just say it was an accident, if he even asks.”

Erestor frowned, but they could hear others on the stairs. “Go on--you better get out there. I can put these away somewhere and we can talk about them later,” offered Erestor. Mairon nodded and hastily left the room. 

Now alone, Erestor started to look over the pictures. Some only showed vagaries, such as a tower upon rocks, but others were more violent. He was so lost in piecing together what appeared to be a story that he did not notice Túrin standing behind him until he was asked, “What is all this?”

“You are sworn to secrecy if I tell you,” warned Erestor. 

Túrin peered around and looked at one of the images. “Is that a wolf?”

“A werewolf--but before I say more, you must swear it. How did you get in here, anyhow?”

“The lock is broken,” Túrin said. “And, so long as it is not of harm to others, I swear to say nothing so long as you charge it of me.”

“These were drawn by Mairon,” said Erestor. “He thinks he is remembering things.”

Túrin frowned. “His memories were not taken, then--it is like my sister. They are suppressed, but clarity may come to him one day.”

“These were from a dream.”

“More like a nightmare,” said Túrin. He looked at another. “He is remembering what he commanded his wolves to do?”

“I think it is more than that,” said Erestor. He held up another of the drawings and said, “I think he was the werewolf. I think he killed Edrahil and Finrod--personally.”

“That would more than explain their reactions when he arrived,” said Túrin. Since the arrival of Celebrimbor and Mairon, Finrod and Edrahil had found many reasons not to spend time with the family, and to go on adventures of their own. “Do you plan to confront him about this?”

“No,” said Erestor as he gathered up the drawings. “I think he shall come to me, in time.”

  
  


In the room across the hall, Mairon was seated on the edge of the bed as Celebrimbor opened a package that was on the counter. “I hope you have been behaving,” said Celebrimbor in an even tone.

“Of course, master,” answered Mairon in a meek voice.

“Good.” Celebrimbor unwrapped an item that was in the package and held it up so that only he could see it. “Then that means you have earned this tonight.”

Mairon sucked in air. “Master, I am very tired tonight. Perhaps tomorrow?”

“But do you not wish for what you have earned?” Celebrimbor came over to pet Mairon’s hair. “Do you not wish to make me happy with your obedience?”

A tremble shook Mairon, but he said, “I would never wish to displease you, master.”

“Good.” Celebrimbor took hold of a fistful of Mairon’s hair and pulled it back. “Strip, and make haste.” Celebrimbor let go, but not until after he had demandingly kissed Mairon and bit the corner of his lip until he drew blood. Mairon removed his clothing as slowly as he dared, though he sped up when Celebrimbor decided he was going too slow and gave him a rough smack on the ass with his open hand. Once Mairon was naked, Celebrimbor pointed to the bed. “You know what to do.”

“Could we...try something else tonight?” asked Mairon.

“But this is your favorite,” Celebrimbor said. “We will try something a little different tonight,” promised Celebrimbor, and he brought the item from earlier into Mairon’s view. In the month since their return, Celebrimbor spent every night bringing Mairon to near climax, only to deny him release as he himself would climax by his hand or Mairon’s mouth. Tonight, he had a new toy. This one was longer than other stimulation aids, and it was tapered at one end. It also had an irregular surface to it, unlike the smooth implements that had been utilized previously. 

“Master, if you desire it, then so do I,” Mairon finally said. 

“Very good. The position, Mairon.”

Mairon squirmed. “Master--”

“What now? Mairon, you delay our pleasure.”

“Master, forgive me, but I only hoped to ask for...for something to ease the way. I am still so tight, and...and…” Mairon trembled. “I think a lubricant would help.”

“You have always liked it like this my sweet,” crooned Celebrimbor as he stroked Mairon’s cheek. “I suppose, if you insist, but we tried it before, and you never liked it then. However, if we must…” Celebrimbor heaved a sigh. “I will see what I can find.”

“No...I...I am sorry, Master. I do not mean to doubt you,” said Mairon. He slowly moved to present himself with his ass in the air and his legs spread apart, knees on the bed. His arms clutched the pillow that his head rested upon. “Please, Master. Please give me pleasure.”

“Of course.” Celebrimbor stood behind Mairon. He rubbed the smooth skin from his rear to the middle of his back. “I cannot wait to hear your reaction to this.” Without preparation, Celebrimbor positioned the slender end at Mairon’s entrance and used his other hand to widen the pucker. Slowly, he started to penetrate Mairon. “You are so tight for me, darling. Spread your legs a little more. Oh, do not cry,” Celebrimbor admonished. “You love this.”

The reality was that Mairon did love it once his body adjusted to the unexpected intrusion. He loved it as Celebrimbor moved the device in and out of his body. This one seemed excessively long, and occasionally he hissed when it pressed deeply within. Still, after a few minutes, he felt looser and more relaxed, and rocked back towards it. “Oh, Master,” he groaned. “I do love it. You are so good to me, Master.”

Celebrimbor frowned and twisted the shaft. Mairon cried out, but once more, began to arch and mewl as Celebrimbor manipulated it. A few more thrusts were delivered, and then Celebrimbor yanked it from Mairon. It was stained, and Celebrimbor took it back to the counter to deposit it into the box. 

“Please, Master. I yearn for you.”

With his back to Mairon, Celebrimbor loosened his trousers. “How much do you want me, Mairon?” Celebrimbor took himself in hand and began to manipulate his erection. “Tell me what you desire.”

“You, Master. I am empty, and I desire you fill me. Use me, Master. Fill me completely, pull my hair, make me scream for you, Master. Please, Master!”

With a few grunts, Celebrimbor spilled into his hand. “And you shall have what you desire--but not yet, my pet. Not yet.” Celebrimbor walked to the bed, still exposed, and offered two sticky fingers to Mairon. Lips were parted, but even before Mairon’s mouth was fully open, Celebrimbor pushed his digits in. “Suck it,” he demanded, though he needed not command it, for Mairon was already licking his fingers, and did not stop until he cleaned each of them off completely. 

“Now, Master? Now will you claim me?” asked Mairon as Celebrimbor petted the ombre strands of hair. 

“It is so late, my pet,” said Celebrimbor. “I think you will want to make yourself presentable for dinner.”

Mairon rose up on his knees and grabbed for Celebrimbor, who was just out of his reach now as he walked back to the box. “But I hunger only for you, Master.”

Celebrimbor chuckled. “Then it will be all the more sweeter to receive what you desire.”

Down Mairon looked, to his own swollen length and whimpered. Celebrimbor was suddenly behind Mairon, and took hold of his wrists. “And remember--only I decide when and how you are to be touched. Do not spill yourself without my leave.”

Teeth were gritted, but Mairon nodded. Celebrimbor held him fast until Mairon’s body relaxed and he was flacid with head bowed. Kisses were placed along Mairon’s neck, and Celebrimbor embraced Mairon for a moment before pushing himself away. “Wash up. We have dinner to attend.”

  
  


Late that night, Mairon quietly extricated himself from bed. He silently left the room and went to the hall. Down the stairs he traveled, and he sat down in the dining room. There were additional images that he wanted to draw, but he did not know where to find supplies. An examination of his hand showed that the wound was now scabbed over; Erestor would not be happy if he had to bandage him up again. Mairon had promised to wait for the red ink. 

Red. Red, and black. Fire, and blood, and angry skies. Death, and destruction, and smoke billowing over the land. Sometimes there were hints of grey and brown, but always, red and black. Never blue nor yellow nor green.

Mairon turned his head to look at the windows that faced the pines and the gazebo. He went to them and very carefully, very silently, opened one of them. Before he was released, he was warned that he would not be allowed outside of the confines of the house once he arrived. Mairion breathed in the cool night air and watched a rabbit bound over the lawn. The trees were out of reach, but he tried nonetheless. Words from earlier came to mind, blood on the trees, and he thought he actually saw the boughs move away from him.

With a sigh, he closed the window and walked back through the dim room. Meaning to take the shorter route back upstairs, he was shocked when he entered the living room and found Erestor there, reading. “My apologies,” muttered Mairon, but he was waved into the room. “I did not know anyone else was awake.”

“I am a creature of the night, or so my husband says,” explained Erestor. “I expect I will sleep soon. I did not know anyone else was still up.”

“I was sitting in the next room,” Mairon admitted.

“If you ever find yourself in need of conversation after hours, I can usually be found here.”

Mairon nodded. “May I sit?”

“Of course.” Erestor waited a few moments, and then asked, “You seem distracted by something.”

There was no reason to deceive or conceal, so Mairon shared his recent thoughts. “I was at the window in the next room, and I saw the trees outside. I had a desire to touch them.”

Erestor slowly closed his book and set it aside. “What would you do after touching them?”

“Nothing. I just found such a deep desire to touch the pine needles--but I think I must have done something horrible to trees. They seemed afraid of me.” Mairon picked at his fingernails. “In fact, what I have felt since I arrived is that everyone is afraid of me.”

“I cannot speak for everyone, but I suspect there is still hesitation,” said Erestor. 

Mairon looked up. “Not you.”

Erestor shrugged.

“You do not fear me.”

For a moment, Erestor looked away. Then, he moved his head to one side and then the other, and then looked at Mairon again. “I suppose not.”

“Why not? Everything you have read to me about the things I did should make you fear me. Despise me. Hate me.”

Erestor stretched and then drew his feet up beneath his long robes. “I can hate the actions of a person without hating the person. I tend to analyze the whole.” Erestor stretched his feet out again, trying to find a comfortable position. “Within this house, we have kinslayers and oathtakers, Silmaril-seekers and Valar-defiers. We have a man who bedded his sister, and one who killed his wife’s cousin. There are few if any in this house who are innocent.”

“You are,” said Mairon.

“To proclaim that would be to proclaim arrogance. I am not wholly without faults,” said Erestor.

“But you do not fear me.”

“To fear anyone is to fear death and loss. I have lived a good life; I have few regrets, and those are my fault alone. Your return, in my mind, is the will of Eru. If He wills my death one day, by your hand or another, how am I to deny Him that? If He blesses me with life eternal, I will be grateful to Him, but I will not hate Him if that is not His plan. I live each day, and I do not allow fear to enter unbidden.”

“You fear nothing,” said Mairon.

Erestor snorted. “I fear not having coffee in the morning.” He smiled when Mairon did not. “That is a joke.”

“I see,” said Mairon, though it was uncertain if he did.

“My people lived a simple life. Our concerns were floods, famine, and being trampled by a wayward pack of Oliphants. Practical, sensible, and lacking desires to chase after shiny rocks or shiny--things,” Erestor edited before saying something he might not want to reveal just yet. “Long-term family drama is not something I was privy to.”

“Why did you leave your people?”

“I fell in love,” answered Erestor quickly. 

“With Glorfindel,” Mairon assumed.

Erestor gave a single nod. “Most people do not believe in love at first sight, but that is what it was. He came into our camp, and he was injured, and scared.”

“You like to take care of people,” guessed Mairon.

“I suppose I do.” Erestor stretched again. “I think I shall retire soon.” He glanced through the open doorway to the dining room, and out through the window. “Excuse me a moment.”

Mairon patiently waited as Erestor left the room. He could hear the back door open and close. For several minutes, Mairon stayed seated on the couch until he heard Erestor return. He stood up, and a moment later, Erestor came into the room with something in a pot. 

“This is more of a sapling than a tree, but it was growing close to the house, under the bushes. Glorfindel kept saying we needed to get rid of it, but no one could decide whether we actually wanted a birch tree in the yard. I have not had the heart to weed it and throw it away. I have no idea how it began growing there; I have seen no birch nearby. You should keep it near a window so that it gets enough sunlight.” Erestor held the pot with the baby tree out to Mairon. 

“Thank you.” Mairon took hold of the pot, and unlike the other trees, this one seemed to know that it was given a chance only by the grace of a random thought and Erestor’s consideration. “I will do my best to take care of it.”

“I am sure you will,” said Erestor. “Good night.”

Mairon waited until he was alone to sit down and study the plant. It was thin, but sturdy. The leaves were sparse, and it did not yet have its customary light-colored bark. Mairon lightly ran his fingertips along one of the leaves. Instead of leaning away, it seemed that the tree appreciated the attention. Some of the thoughts that plagued his mind earlier and caused him not to want to sleep again sprang up in Mairon’s mind. Terrible, horrible things. He looked down at the little sapling. With a single twist of his hand, he could snap the helpless trunk, too weak to have a defense against cruelty. It would only take a few seconds to strip the leaves and crumble the roots in his hands. He had done this once--this, and more. Thoughts of his former cruelty were overwhelming. Mairon looked down at the tiny tree. “I will be better this time,” he said, whispering his vow.

The tiny tree seemed to nudge at his fingers, trusting him.

Mairon wept.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
